


Safe

by fusrodie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Friendship, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:06:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4194897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fusrodie/pseuds/fusrodie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is on the run and he can't do it anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe

He had wandered through the night, stumbling forward, too stunned to know or care about where he was. He remembered little: darkness, the sound of twigs snapping under his feet, the rustling of leaves; he felt the dirt under his fingernails and the bark of trees rubbing against the pads of his fingers as he grabbed them for support, yet it all seemed distant, not worthy of any importance. His legs carried him perhaps by instinct, taking him somewhere, anywhere. Perhaps to his death, yes, death, and he walked faster then, for he had died many moons prior; the young man whose only wish was to help others had passed over a year ago, tortured, beaten, choked and  _in pieces_. The man he saw in the mirror was sad and hollow, living each day hoping the next would bring an end to his miserable existence.

It was a winter night, biting cold and void of life; the wind whistled in his ear as he walked, covered in blood and grime. His body ached, exhausted and bruised, but he refused to stop; he would never rise to his feet again if he gave in now, and wherever it was, he needed to  _get there._  He felt hot, exertion and fever drenching him in sweat. His clouded eyes did not allow him to see a thing, and it would be better this way, trotting forward and not knowing if he could be seen, one less reason to panic. Maybe he would go down before he ever knew what hit him.

Frustration started to build within him when the minutes passed and his journey was uneventful. He could not make out any particular sounds, nothing inherently dangerous. Even his mind was quiet. Breathing proved itself to be a daunting task, and he would never be able to tell if he had dragged himself along for an hour or a whole night. He hoped the sun would soon come through, or at least a sharp pain, impossible to ignore, that would take him to blissful, eternal slumber.

It took him a moment to register he had stepped on air, a barely audible gasp escaping his lips as his body tumbled forward and hit the ground, hands trying to grab a hold of something before the impact of his midsection against the stone knocked the air out of his lungs. He could feel it, pain, so strong it consumed all of his willpower to stay awake. Content for once, he let his mind drift into darkness.

* * *

When Anders opened his eyes and realized he still lived, he could not keep himself from crying.

Tears rolled down his face as he lay silent, so weak he did not have the energy to weep. Why couldn’t it be simpler? Why was he allowed to survive, pushing himself to the limit, when all he wanted was to perish as quickly as possible? He had  _nothing_ , his efforts were in vain. A monster, a murderer, they called him, the people he once knew as friends scattered to the wind, dealing with problems  _he_  had caused. The last year alone had seemed like an eternity, splitting himself between healing and  _not thinking_ , until those he had helped pointed fingers,  _monster, murderer,_  and the path was lonely once more; outcast, pariah.

The sound of footsteps nearby brought to his attention the fact that he was  _safe,_  comfortable, and had no clue as to where he was or who had saved him. A heavy weight pressed his legs, warm and soothing, and he was surprised to find a curious, albeit sleepy, pair of eyes staring back at him. The mabari woofed once, happily waggling its tail when Anders streched his arm to scratch behind its ears, and just as quickly proceeded to ignore him, settling itself again and drifting back to sleep.

Beside his bedroll, a waterskin, a glass bottle and a dagger. Anders cracked a small smile, sadder than he would have wanted, when he felt no urge to take the blade and  _use it_. Last night started to seem distant: he was fine, as fine as he could be, injuries tended and a hound to keep him company. Did he dare call himself lucky? Or was he a fool for prolonging his own suffering, letting go of the perfect opportunity to end it once and for all? He felt his eyes burn as the tears threatened to come back without his permission. Anders thought of those he loved, wondering if they remembered him, if they would ever be able to understand and forgive him. He thought of Hawke, and sadness became anger and then sadness once more — he did not think they would meet ever again. What was it he had left? A broken heart, a life in pieces. He would have to start over, alone, and did not know from where he would gather the strength he needed.

Though ashamed for feeling so pathetic, he could not bring himself to care when his savior pushed aside the tent flap and approached him; unsure of what to do, Anders waited. For words, a sigh, anything. He did not expect, however, the stranger to kneel right beside him, a gentle hand touching his shoulder and briefly caressing the skin there.

He could see little through the tears, but it was clear to him Amell had changed. She was no longer the bubbly girl he met at the tower, nor the hardened woman who had him conscripted at Vigil’s Keep. She looked bitter, tired, and it made no sense why she would bother rescuing what was left of him. Amell took his hands in her own and a wave of relief washed over him as they both cried, sobs punctuated with laughter, and there it was, the big, bright smile of hers, the one thing she kept over the years. There was something in her expression, something he could not read. Kindness, perhaps affection, and it all felt foreign, new. For so long all he found was hatred and disdain in other people’s eyes. She sighed deeply, supressing yet another smile as she spoke:

_\- I’ve missed you so much._

**Author's Note:**

> This started out more as a character study than a story, I think. What would happen to an unromanced Anders after the events of DA: II. And it was supposed to become a longer, thought-out thing, but eh. Maybe someday.
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
